Each day on her morning walk she passed a church. She didn't need a watch because the church bell rang on the hour and half hour. For some reason today she decided to take a stroll through the church grounds. Almost immediately it was as if she had entered an enchanted dream. Flower beds lined brick pathways and many trees and shrubs were in bloom. Every so often sunlight streamed through a break in the trees. Occasionally sparkling colors reflected on leaves cast from the stained glass windows of the church. Benches were strategically placed for optimum views. Oftentimes a statue, gazebo, or a specimen shrub or tree was featured.
As she strolled by the clover studded lawns she came upon an old cemetery. Some graves were marked with carved statues, some with intricate headstones, some carved, some printed with heartfelt messages, and some simple with only a name. So many memories were tied up the cemetery.
She'd heard of folks who visited cemeteries taking rubbings of old gravestones on fabric or paper. She always wondered about that practice but now she had a longing to try a rubbing one day. Of course she'd respect the rules of taking rubbings. As she wandered back to finish her morning walk, she wondered why she had never taken the opportunity to visit the church grounds. She had no regrets but silently she gave thanks for the marvelous visit she'd had today. She knew she'd be back and wondered what the cemetery would look like on a cold winter's day.
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